The Bonds That Last
by sheehan666
Summary: This is a darker side of pokemon, where death does indeed happen. This is a story about an awful world full of violence becomes a world full of potential friendships, and bonds that last right up until Ash Ketchum's time. Based in long time ago years.
1. The Fall Of Scythe

**Chapter 1 - Fall of Scythe**

The wind swept through the leaves, bringing a mild musk of dirt

and mildew. Targus breathed it in, relishing the taste of the air. This was his home, and he would fight to the death for it. Targus' tribe, the oaks, occupied this little patch of forest for 9 generations, and he swore to see them make it to the tenth. A group of Scyther had been trying to take this land for a month now, and both sides lost many lives, but finally, it appeared as if the scyther were losing numbers. Torgus gathered his men, and began the hunt. He meant to end this battle for good, tonight, before the sun fell.

Standing medium height in his tribe, Targus was heavily muscled

by years of tilling earth, and battling pokemon who wandered too close to their camp. A thick scar travelled down his left arm, poking out between thick black armor, torn from the hide of a fallen Rhydon, and a cotton tunic, stained from the sweat and dirt of many years of use. His high leather boots stood knee-high, made of leather of a tauros skin. His shield was draped across his back. It was his prized posession. He found a bronzor in an old knig's crypt, floating there, dying. Targus took it to his village, and gave it the gift of mercy. It became his shield, protected by a seal on the back of it, the ward leaf, known to be a powerful sigul in the old kingdoms.

Targus adjusted his scyther blade in it's leaf-sheath, and moved

forward. Baeron followed close behind, clutching his spear in both gigantic hands. Baeron towered over every other man in the tribe. He was second in command, and a loyal friend and brother to Targus. Together they crept forward, looking for signs of the scyther. Farther back, the rest of the hunting team waited, wielding fire on their clubs, and lanterns, hung on large walking sticks, made for lighting arrows on the fly. In the distance, green moved over green, and Targus froze, and Baeron quickly stopped behind him. A young scyther walked away from them, oblivious, into a small clearing. Targus went for a closer look.

Upon closer inspection, there were approximately 25 scyther.

They had thirty men with fire in the back, so they would need to take the swarm by surprise. Targus and Baeron crept back to the team, not stirring the forest at all as they walked, despite their size. The sun stood in the top of the sky, beating down through the trees, onto the rest of the hunters, men clad in nothing but leather armors. They all rose as Baeron slipped through the trees, and Targus stepped before them, and described the situation.

"The scyther are grouped together." He spoke quietly. "I think if

we split up, we could flank them. Baeron and I will shall take them by the east side. Jonah, rally your numbers so you can strike from the west. We're headed for the Wild Clearing, where the old king was buried. We'll surprise them with fire, and take the remainder with our strength in numbers. Lives may be lost, but our lands will remain ours,and our babes shall live to see the morrow. We shall be drinking to our victory by sunfall." The rest of the men Stomped lightly in approval, and split apart to take their positions.

The scyther appeared to be in the process of gathering nuts and

berries. A large scyther, darker in color than the rest, stood proudly over the rest of them. She was covered in scars from previous battles, with some more recent wounds, likely the result of aviolent duel for leadership of the swarm. That was good, it meant one less scyther to deal with. It was either dead, or fled in shame. The clearing was made wider with stumps spotting the area. The trees were pushed to the north, presumably to deal with the harsh autumn winds. They made no secret of the fact that they wanted this forest. Targus watched with his group in a thick patch of trees. He know that Jonah was on the other side, Waiting for him to make the first move. Targus turned to whisper orders, when a flap of wings caught their attention. They looked up, and saw a dirty pidgey on the top branches, who, once spotted, rapidly took flight for the clearing. Scyther and hunter alike stared up at the pidgey. Than the scyther looked at the trees.

Targus pulled his blade, dipped it into the lantern, and ran,

shouting, blade blazing, into the clearing. His men instantly followed his lead, dippingarrows, spears, and clubs into the lanterns, they ran after them, shouting their own war cries. Scyther grouped themselves quickly, and began to rush at the hunters. Targus slashed at the first scyther, as it attempted to hack him down, and burned it as it slashed it's lower-mid section. A rush of liquid oozed from the wound, and the scyther crumpled to the ground. Arrows were loosed behind him, and fire shot past him, into the clearing, lighting bits of brush on fire, and scattered the scyther. Across the clearing, Jonah and his hunters rushed out of the forest, with arrows flying past them. One man behind Jonah was cut almost in two by a fleeing scyther, and another two cut it down. Baeron was keeping a scyther at bay with his huge spear, tipped with a rhyhorn's horn. The horn was blazing from the lantern fuel.

The hunters were winning the battle, and the dark green scyther flew down from a high tree in the south. He took down two men as he landed gracefully, and swiftly spun and cut down a third. Baeron charged it from the rear, and nearly speared her straight through, but she twisted herself to face him. They locked eyes, and Baeron lunged with his spear. The scyther cut a foot off the end of the spear, and dashed in close. A small dagger made of wood slipped into Baeron's hands as the scyther threw herself at him. The knife lodged in the upper abdomen but the scyther swung as if she did not feel it. It's blade stuck itself into Baeron's thigh. The scyther died on top of him, with the blade still enbedded in his thigh. In a high branch on the south-east side, a Noctowl observed the battle. 'Fools,' He thought. 'The scyther are only the beginning.'

The battle was won. Targus and his men chased off the rest of the scyther, and they fleed into the forest in all directions. 18 lay dead in the clearing, and 7 hunters. Targus rounded his men together and they all shouted his name. And Baeron stood leaning on another hunter, with a bloody scyther blade in his hand. His new trophy. The rest of the schyther's blades were cut too. The rest they burned in a small fire they in the center of the clearing. The sun began to set at they made their way home.


	2. Innocence Of Mew

Chapter 2 - The Innocence Of Mew

The world flew past in a blur of colors. This was her favorite way to get around. Sometimes, when she awoke, there was nothing to do but fly,  
wasting all the pent up energy. It felt good. After extended time in her little pink bubble, she would occasionally fly across the waters to the warm place, and other times to the mountain! Every where was an adventure. Her favorite place though, was the big green place, where there was nothing but plants and trees. On occasion, she would run into someone playing. She loved to play.

Today she was not heading for the forest. Looming in the distance, surrounded by a think cloud of black smoke, was the red place. The volcano slowly took up all of her view, and she squeaked with joy. Water shot up, as she flew over the ocean, gaining speed, feeling the wind over her fine pink fur. Within moments, she was shooting up the side of the mountain, barely missing trees, and jutting rocks. She shot over the volcano, and stopped, hovering, admiring the mass of molten rock below. Slowly, she drifted down towards the heat.

A small dot appeared from a crevice on the sides, and gradually grew larger and larger. The dot formed into a large body, with massive wings on each side. A flash of orange zipped past, blowing her away tumbling, and giggling. A charizard, big and ugly, flew in a circle, coming back towards her. The flame on it's tale began to lighten slightly, into a bluish white flame, larger and hotter than before. It rushed at Mew in rage, opening it's mouth wide for a vicious firy assault. Flames burst around mew, and charizard flew past, roaring triumphantly. The fire dissipated to reveal a glowing pink orb, bobbing in the air. It popped like a bubble, and Mew charged charizard, giggling. It headbutted the beast in the chest, and she heard a loud and angry crunch. Charizard flailed in the air, trying to maintain flight, but slowly drifted down towards the fires.

The charizard gasped for breath as it plunged towards the molten lavas and fires below. It knew that falling in would certainly mean death.  
Each inhale was a grinding of rib bones inside of it's chest, and every wing stroke an agony. The walls were not moving any closer, but the fires did. Charizard roared in fury, and desperation. It's tail dragged into the fires, and it shrieked again, weakly, before collapsing into the , mew watched, curious why the other one did not want to play anymore. She shortly grew bored, and shot off into another direction, in search of someone else to play with. 


End file.
